


Slow Down

by IncognitoDuck11



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Begging, Belt-Spanking, Body Worship, Brief mention of daddy kink, Cowgirl Position, Cunnilingus, Dom!Aria, Established Relationship, F/F, Face Slapping, Fluff, Gags, Handcuffs, I'm Going to Hell, Impact Play, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Riding, Sharing Clothes, Shower Sex, Smut, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Sub!Spencer, Suit Kink, Tie Kink, i think that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27449800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncognitoDuck11/pseuds/IncognitoDuck11
Summary: People, Aria thinks, are like cassette tapes.They have their A-side—the large, solid bulk of their personality—and they have their B-side, which includes the things that don't quite make it on the album. B-sides aren't the best, some of them, but they can be unique. They're what makes a person interesting, layered. They're the ugly truths that people either settle into, or completely hide from.Her girlfriend's B-side is especially fascinating.
Relationships: Spencer Hastings/Aria Montgomery
Comments: 13
Kudos: 29





	Slow Down

**Author's Note:**

> This is the essay I had to write to be accepted into hell. Be gentle, it’s my first time posting this much SIN.
> 
> Recommended listening:  
> “Slow Down” by Chase Atlantic  
> “Holy” by King Princess  
> “Ride” by SoMo

People, Aria thinks, are like cassette tapes. 

They have their A-side—the large, solid bulk of their personality—and they have their B-side, which includes the things that don't quite make it on the album. B-sides aren't the best, some of them, but they can be unique. They're what makes a person interesting, layered. They're the ugly truths that people either settle into, or completely hide from. 

Her girlfriend's B-side is especially fascinating.

The Spencer that's projected to the public is often described as confident, hardworking, and independent, whereas her B-side, when Aria can coax it out, is a pent-up, self-loathing masochist that needs other people like she needs oxygen. Aria likes this darker take, likes admiring the worst parts of Spencer Hastings, like when she used to flip her parents' cassettes over just to take a listen.

Of course, Aria's got a B-side, too, which happens to play quite harmoniously with Spencer's. Hers is quite power-hungry, actually, wants to prove itself, wants other people to bend to her will. Flipside Aria can be cruel, selfish, and she's what always comes out when she's pissed or jealous or threatened. It's a strange thing to embrace, this part of her, because A-side Aria prides herself on being kind and compassionate, protective of the people she loves. She's nurturing, a perfect match for someone like Spencer, whose obsessive need for perfection often masks the fact that she doesn't take care of herself, doesn't care about herself, would throw herself down on her own sword for someone else's sake without batting an eye. Spencer as a whole is self-sacrificing, plagued by a guilty conscience, and it's  _ infuriating _ . 

So Aria gathers up all her selfishness and her cruelty and her concern and she tries to fix her as best she can. She surrenders to that nastier part of herself, lets it take over while Spencer does the same, and she gives her girlfriend what she needs. 

And Aria _ likes _ it, likes the headrush of it all, likes feeling in control, having the authority to punish. She likes the wicked pleasure of watching a human being squirm under her thumb. 

She likes it the same way she liked finding half-dead butterflies in her mother's garden growing up, freezing them to death and then pinning them into her collection. They were pretty little things in their helplessness, with their damaged wings, and Spencer is pretty writhing around with her flushed skin and broken cries and strangled gasps. She's pretty tied up, pinned down, spread out, vulnerable and willing and all Aria's. She's pretty when she tears up but tightens her jaw until it looks like her teeth will shatter, because she's Spencer and she's _ stubborn _ . 

Of course, the desire to reach impossible heights—even if she does astronomical damage to herself in the process—is hard-wired into her girlfriend. She knows that Spencer will jump and keep jumping until her feet bleed and her kneecaps shatter, especially if it’s for the benefit of the people she loves. Put a collar on her and she’ll rail against it like a bloodhound chasing a scent, yanking until her windpipe collapses. And Spencer has trouble breathing on the best of days, but that's where Aria comes in. 

As she sits in the audience amidst a crowd of people similar to them both, people that seek out knowledge just for the sake of  _ knowing _ , Aria catches every tiny indication that Spencer’s focus is beginning to drift. That distraction is not a result of staring out at a sea of people—Spencer is a natural onstage, and embarrassment definitely isn't a major deterrent for her anyway—but instead it most likely has something to do with the necktie wrapped snugly around the base of her throat. Aria tightened it with a precise hand when they were getting ready earlier, Spencer staring down at her with a reverent understanding of exactly what it symbolized, and Aria had firmly reminded her to behave in public. Spencer knew very well what the consequences would be if she didn't, but the daring glint in her eyes had suggested she might not care. Not today, at least.

Aria knows she doesn't, not really, but she also knows all the right ways to demand that obedience. One way or another, Spencer will give it over willingly, just like she always does. Sometimes it takes a little finesse or a less-than-gentle push, but eventually Spencer surrenders, lets go of the control she clings so desperately to. All the while, she's a display of intensity, of coiled strength like a lioness in tall grass, and it truly astonishes Aria to see her like that. It always thrills her to know that she's in command of such a powerful entity, an absolute force of nature packed into the lean shape of a woman.

For now, things seem to be going well. Spencer's eyes keep seeking her out every time she begins to drift, and just the sight of Aria serves to get her back on track. These minuscule lapses in Spencer's focus probably go unnoticed by everyone else, but Aria can spot them a mile away. She sees them a lot, considering that bringing them to light only ever takes a single hint of power on Aria’s part, a touch or a look or even a particular posture. It’s astonishingly easy to exert control, but it’s also her responsibility to use it only when Spencer needs it. Now, for example, as Spencer finds her once again, looking for clarity. Aria quirks a brow, makes her expression expectant and firm, and silently urges her girlfriend to do her best. 

Spencer gives an almost imperceptible nod, adjusting her tie and clearing her throat, and launches into the next part of her speech with such a gripping focus that it seems like everyone in the audience leans a little bit closer to hear. You can hear a pin drop in the spaces between her every amplified word, and Aria thinks it’s beautiful how such a simple, permissive look can serve as a safe jumping off point for Spencer to lose herself in passion. It always flatters Aria over and over again that she’s who Spencer Hastings wants to impress most in this world. Aria’s opinion means so much to her that it worries Aria at times, but she makes it a point to let her know just how proud she is. Often. As much as feasibly possible. 

Because she’s  _ so _ fucking proud. 

So fucking proud that she cups her hands around her mouth and yells it when Spencer finishes to much applause, and Spencer’s blush is plainly visible as she steps down from the spotlight. Aria loves that hint of ruddiness, loves knowing that she caused it, and she finds as many ways as she can to make it appear on Spencer's face as Spencer takes her seat beside her and they listen to the other speakers. Circling the inside of Spencer's wrist with her thumb, resting a hand on her knee, and stepping on her shoe with a heeled foot is enough, but she goes further, leaning in with the intent to whisper dirty nothings in her girlfriend’s ear. 

“I think you just earned what I'm giving you tonight, babe.” 

The blush spreads down Spencer's neck, tinges her ears pink, and if the room wasn't so dim,  _ everyone  _ could have seen it. Spencer clears her throat, tucking behind her ear one of the soft, loose tendrils of hair that frames her face, and shifts in her seat, crossing one leg over the other in a move so casual that Aria would be fooled if she didn’t know better. Her jaw tightens as Aria hooks a finger through the silky material of her tie, just beside the neat Windsor knot sitting above her collarbone, and gives a slight tug. Spencer lets out an irritated sigh before leaning over to whisper a few choice words of her own in Aria’s ear. 

“If you don't cut it out, we’re leaving early.” 

“Oh, really?” says Aria, in a hushed voice that even she has trouble hearing. She smirks. “Says who?” 

And there’s that first glimmer of defiance. Spencer straightens to her full height, lifting her chin and training her gaze back on the stage. “Me.” 

“ _ You _ ?” Aria simpers, earning a flicker of what looks like amusement. “Spen- _ cer _ ,” she singsongs, tightening her grip on the tie, tugging harder. “I know what you're doing. And you know it's not gonna fly.” 

And Spencer, this stubborn, infuriating, impossible smartass she loves to the moon and back, only glances over at her with a furrowed brow and a knowing smile. “Oh, it’s not?” 

Aria lets her believe she won for the time being, just to see the smug glow of triumph on her face, but as the last speaker is bidding them thanks and applause erupts in a deafening roar, she leans over and practically growls, “I  _ know _ you're just begging to be punished, honey, but tonight I'm feeling awfully creative. And I know you don't like me when I get creative.” 

Spencer falters as she claps, looking absolutely dumbstruck for a moment before she regains her composure. Aria turns back to the stage, smiling to herself.

They move out of the auditorium with the rest of the crowd, to a room dotted with tables, and stay to mingle. Many people come up to shake Spencer's hand and pick her brain, and Aria smiles politely as Spencer introduces her, then listens as Spencer patiently indulges each one of them and asks questions of her own. She keeps her hand on the small of Spencer's back all the while, and sends her off to get them drinks when they finally have a break between conversations. 

Spencer comes back bearing a single flute of champagne, sipping delicately at it like all is right in the world, and she stares at Aria for a few deliberate beats before a fake look of realization crosses her face. “Oh!” she exclaims, mouth twisting into a shit-eating grin. “Sorry, babe, I forgot yours. I can go back, if you want.”

Aria glares at her.  _ Yeah, right. _ “No, no, that's fine,” she says, shooting off a chastising look that has Spencer tucking her proverbial tail between her legs. She hands over the drink as Aria beckons for it, and they share it for the rest of the event—or, really, Aria drinks and only allows Spencer a sip or two. 

Eventually, people slowly start to trickle out and they decide it’s decorous to leave. Once they make their rounds and say goodbyes, Aria wraps one hand around Spencer's wrist, feeling her pulse quicken, and puts the car keys in her open palm with the other. If Spencer  _ really _ wants to be in the driver's seat, so be it. It’s one thing Spencer never learned to appreciate. 

Luckily, Aria loves putting her in her place. 

When they get to the parking lot, Spencer opens the car door for her—like she always does—and Aria tips up to kiss her on the cheek for it. And there’s that blush again.

She sits with a hand resting on the inside of Spencer's thigh the whole ride home, and watches as the speedometer crawls higher and higher… 

* * *

Aria swiftly shoves Spencer back against the front door once it closes behind them, grabbing the lapel of her suit jacket with one hand while she turns the lock with the other. 

“Home, sweet home,” she purrs, heels clicking on the hardwood floor as she backs up toward the couch, tugging Spencer by the necktie like a dog on a leash. 

“Hmm, and what does that mean for me?” hums Spencer, sharp coffee-colored eyes impossibly dark with lust. There’s a note of playfulness in her voice, because she knows  _ exactly _ what that means for her. 

Aria stops pulling on her tie, halting them in front of the sofa, and reaches up to undo the buttons of Spencer's suit jacket. “Well,” she huffs out, making her tone as condescending as she can. The words that roll off her tongue next are bitter and nasty, but Spencer eats them up. “Somebody has been entirely too naughty for her own good, and I think I need to teach her a lesson.” 

The buttons taken care of, Aria pushes Spencer's jacket off her shoulders and carelessly tosses it to the side, not bothering to see where it lands in the tasteful expanse of their living room. Then, Aria steers her around by the shirt collar only to shove her down onto the couch cushions below. Spencer flops back, letting out a sharp gasp, and breaks into a wide grin as Aria sits across her lap, intent on undoing her girlfriend’s hair from its elegant updo. 

“The suit was a good choice,” Aria tells her, plucking out bobby pins with Spencer's breath hot on her neck. “You look like a woman in charge of something.” 

“So I did well up there?” With one last pin plucked free, Spencer shakes her hair loose, letting it tumble down in waves around her shoulders. Aria rakes a greedy hand through it, scratching her nails lightly against Spencer's scalp with one hand while she tenderly rests the other against Spencer’s chest, feeling the quick, laboring beat of her heart. Spencer’s eyelids flutter and she lets out a heavy sigh, leaning her head into Aria’s palm, exhaustion suddenly evident in her entire being. 

“Absolutely. I'm so proud of you, baby,” Aria reassures her, smiling softly to herself as she watches Spencer's eyes slide peacefully shut, like hers is the only approval she needs before she can drift into a blissful death sleep. But they still have business to take care of, so Aria curls a firm hand under Spencer's chin and snaps her fingers in front of her face, effectively commanding her attention. “But that doesn't mean you get let off easy tonight. You still have work to do.” 

The way her girlfriend’s eyes begin to plead for respite set something on fire low in Aria’s stomach. “ _ No _ ,” Spencer whines, the desperate crack in her husky voice doing nothing to help matters. “Aria, please? Not tonight, I'm exhausted.” 

_ So stubborn.  _

“Poor thing's exhausted?” mocks Aria, tightening her grip on the willfully set jaw in her grasp. “But I haven’t even gotten started yet.” 

Practically boiling over with passion, Aria steals forward for a heated kiss, reveling in the wanton authority to smudge the sophisticated, deep red lipstick that adorns Spencer’s lips. Spencer relents, surrendering a heady groan as Aria thrusts her tongue into her mouth, and runs her hand up Aria's thigh, pausing only to grope her ass over the thin black fabric of her dress. Aria can't suppress the pleased shiver that shoots up her spine at the feeling and slips her hands around to knot them in Spencer’s hair, feeling her girlfriend’s chest heave as Aria presses closer to her, massaging Spencer's tongue with her own. Only when the need for air finally becomes too powerful does Aria tear herself away, panting. 

She twists her face away, smirking, as her girlfriend lurches forward in a hungry attempt to reconnect their mouths. “Ah ah ah,” Aria tuts, tightening her grip on Spencer’s hair, pulling her head back, and drawing from her a low groan that's somewhere between pained and frustrated. “I have a surprise for you. Don't you want to know what it is?” 

Eyes bright and half-lidded, looking practically drunk with a mix of desire and fatigue, Spencer sticks her bottom lip out in a slight pout. “Fine,” she grouses. “What do you want me to do?” 

“Good girl.” Aria caresses her cheek and slides off her lap, earning a sigh of protest that she shoots down with her next command. “I want you to go get your favorite toy ready and wait for me on the bed.” 

But as Spencer begins to wearily drag herself to her feet, Aria stops her, a better idea springing to mind. “Oh, but before you do  _ that _ …” she lilts, reaching down to undo Spencer's belt buckle, “I think you know what you were doing earlier, and I can't just let that go unpunished, can I?” 

The words teeming with a threat do exactly what she wants them to. Something like panic flashes in Spencer's eyes, and her face scrunches up in a wince. “Aria,” she drawls, guilt slumping her shoulders as Aria cups her cheek with one hand and taps her cheekbone  _ one _ , _ two _ ,  _ three _ times with a single finger. A signal. “You know I don't–” 

_ Smack _ ! Aria doesn't hesitate before slapping her across the face,  _ hard _ , but Spencer barely even flinches, biting back a smile as she ducks her head. “You don't what, Spencer? You don't like when I hit you? Bullshit.” 

Aria slaps her again. And one more time for good measure. Her girlfriend’s smile only grows in response, but she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth to try and hide it. 

“See, that's what I'm talking about,” Aria tells her, trying and failing to fight off a grin of her own at the impish look on Spencer's face, the way her cheek grows redder as the seconds tick past. “You are  _ such _ a brat,” she says, shaking her head as she laughs cruelly, covering the innocent mirth she inwardly feels. “Do you really think I believe you don't know how to behave? Or do you just think I'll let you get away with it, princess?” Knowing that Spencer wouldn't take her as seriously otherwise, Aria forces her mouth to fall into a stern line and her eyes to harden. “Huh? Answer me.” 

Spencer straightens her own face in response, her expression taking on a steely defiance as she looks Aria in the eye. “Maybe I'm sick of behaving.” 

Aria's eyebrows shoot upward.  _ That _ is certainly news. She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares her girlfriend down. “You're  _ sick _ of behaving? And you expect me to believe that?” 

With an infuriatingly unbothered air, Spencer shrugs, mirroring Aria’s posture and folding her arms as well. She doesn't break eye-contact, even as Aria lets out an agitated huff and tightens her gaze into a full-on glare. But then she sees the slightest waver in Spencer's resolution, watches her shrink back just a little bit. Just enough.

“Uh huh. Right,” Aria mocks, taking a menacing step closer, pleased when her girlfriend's gaze drops to the floor. She leans in to hiss into Spencer's ear, wrapping her hands around Spencer's belt still hanging undone in its loops. “So how many? Five?” Spencer turns her face away, her breath catching fearfully. In response, Aria coos with all the false sympathy she can muster. “No?” she gasps, mimicking Spencer's fright, then curves her mouth into a wicked smile. “Well, how about ten, then? Or should I just beat your ass until I think you've learned your lesson?” 

That earns a tiny sound that can only be described as a whimper, curling out of the back of Spencer's throat in a way that makes Aria lightheaded. Spencer tips her chin upward, stubbornly training glistening eyes on the ceiling. 

“Ten,” she murmurs hoarsely. “No more, Aria… please?”

“Hey, look at me,” Aria coos, reaching a hand up to gently cup her cheek, angling her face back down. “Ten,” she agrees. “That's all. And it won't be so bad, baby. I'll make them quick. Promise.” 

Spencer's stony expression cracks and her lip begins to quiver. “I'm sorry,” she whispers. “Please, Aria, I'm sorry. I'll be good, if you just–” 

“You'll be good,” Aria interrupts, nodding as she rests her thumb on Spencer's bottom lip to still its trembling. “You'll be good just as soon as I remind you what happens when you’re not.” She pecks a delicate kiss on her cheek as she tugs her belt free. “Go on,” she ordered. “Pants off.” 

With a reluctant sigh, Spencer obliges. She plops down on the edge of the couch to pull off her dress shoes, shooting Aria a scathing look as she takes her sweet time with the task. Becoming absolutely fed up by this display, Aria rolls her eyes and grabs her girlfriend by the collar, throwing her to the side. Spencer swears and catches herself on an elbow, and Aria takes the opportunity to shove her onto her back and tug her tailored slacks down her thighs. Struggling to ignore the smooth, toned legs and silky panties that this action reveals, Aria raises her eyebrows. “On your knees, face down.”

Her girlfriend does as asked, shifting to lay lengthwise across the couch before rolling over onto her knees and pressing her cheek against the cushion, assuming the position they both are oh so familiar with, ass in the air. Folding the belt back on itself, the buckle held safely in her hand, Aria takes a moment to watch the anxious rise and fall of Spencer’s chest before hooking a finger in the waistband of her underwear and slowly pulling them down. Spencer tenses up as more and more of her skin is exposed, but Aria hushes her, slipping her hand under the tail of Spencer’s dress shirt to rub the small of her arched back. She drags her palm over her hips and down her thighs in languid circles, making her voice low and commanding. 

“Count them.” 

Spencer nods, pressing her face harder into the cushion. And then Aria brings the belt down in a sharp, loud smack against her bare ass. Her body jerks and she lets out a short, pained gasp, her hands tightening into fists. 

Aria waits a second for Spencer to regain her composure, then waits a few beats too long after that. So she grabs one of Spencer's wrists and twists her arm behind her back, pinning it there, before sternly prompting, “Spencer. What did I tell you to do?” 

“One…” comes the pitiful reply, eeking through clenched teeth as her girlfriend struggles to retain her balance.

Aria holds her arm tightly, not allowing her to tip to the side, and doesn't waste anymore time before delivering another blow, then another right after, which elicits a startled scream. 

“Two—ah, fuck!— _ three _ .” Spencer's arm strains against her grip, and Aria takes some pity and releases her, watching as her girlfriend scrambles to grab onto something, which happens to be the edge of the cushion. Her grip is white-knuckled, so Aria takes a second to gently rub the red strip of assaulted flesh, hoping to soothe her somewhat. 

Because even as it makes selfish  _ want _ pool wetly between her legs, the sight is also stoking Aria’s underlying  _ need _ to take care of Spencer first and foremost. Watching her suffer is just as painful as it is intoxicating, and Aria’s heart aches for her even as she thinks Spencer is so breathtakingly beautiful in her helplessness. She knows these glimpses of weakness are reserved exclusively for her, and the last thing she wants to do is disregard them or, worse, disrespect the faith Spencer puts in her. So she looks on like God herself, pitying and admiring with equal measure, knowing that the punishment she's delivering is out of love. For her own good. A lesson.

But maybe that's just an excuse. 

Two more staccato blows, and Spencer wails, her body squirming for escape.

Aria reaches down to grab a fistful of the back of her shirt, pressing her knuckles against Spencer's spine in a silent command to relax. Spencer sucks in a ragged breath in a vain attempt at steadying herself, going as still as a petrified animal. “Four,” she rasps, trembling. “Five.”

“You're almost done, baby,” Aria reassures her, now using her knuckles to knead the taut muscles of Spencer's back, drawing out a debauched moan that's more pleasured than pained.

Another blow. Another scream.

“ _ Six _ ,” Spencer barely has time to choke out before the next two come. “Seven, eight. Oh, god… god, please, I–”

“Shhh… two more. Just two more.” 

She doles them out, and her girlfriend's voice is thick with tears as she counts, “ _ Nine _ .  _ Ten _ .” 

“See? You're all done,” murmurs Aria, but that's only half true, isn't it? 

“No, Aria, please…  _ more _ …” Unexpectedly (or maybe not), Spencer’s voice tumbles out in a pathetic whimper, and she looks back at Aria with eyes that glisten with something that's difficult to define as either shame or repentance. Probably both. “I want more. I need more, I… I deserve it.” 

And oh how Aria wants to beat that suffering out of her, make her feel punished and purged of sin. “You want more, baby?” she purrs. “You want to make up for how bad you’ve been?” 

Spencer nods, guilty conscience on full display. “Please.” 

“ _ No _ ,” Aria bites out despite herself, her voice so razor sharp that she almost doesn't recognize it. “Now get up.” 

When Spencer reluctantly manages to push her face and chest up off the cushion, Aria swiftly loops the belt over her head and around her throat. Spencer gets a hand between it and her neck before Aria pulls it tight and yanks her backwards, up on her knees. 

“Come on, baby,” she growls. “I said,  _ get up _ .” 

Spencer bares her teeth, hissing at the rapid change of positions, the whiplash of Aria’s tone, and sits back on her heels. Aria sinks her knees into the couch cushions and maneuvers herself until she's kneeling behind Spencer, tugging at the belt around her girlfriend’s throat so she has no choice but to lean back into Aria’s chest. 

“Now that you've been punished, I bet you want that reward,” Aria husks into her ear, reaching her free hand around to slip it between Spencer's legs. She cups the exposed, soaked cunt she finds there, slipping her fingers through slick, hot folds, and bites her own lip, struck dizzy by her own arousal as Spencer’s mouth drops open in a shameless, raunchy moan. “I bet you want me to fuck you.” 

Aria presses a finger ever-so-slightly into her entrance, teasing her, and Spencer throws her head back against Aria’s shoulder, quivering like she's already on the edge.

“ _ Please _ …” she whines, so needily that Aria almost obliges her.  _ Almost _ . 

_ God _ , she wants to.

Instead, she moves her hand away and unloops the belt from around Spencer’s throat, callously shoving her forward, back down on her hands and knees, giving her a more playful slap on the ass with her palm, which makes Spencer yelp. “But we haven't even gotten to the best parts yet,” Aria teases, getting back to her feet. 

Spencer sits up a bit wincingly, pouting as she rubs her throat and shoots Aria a hateful yet decidedly chastised look. Her mascara has been smudged by her tears, and it streaks her cheeks in a reminder of just how helpless she'd been. That vulnerability has since been replaced by petulance, but lucky for Spencer, Aria understands that it's a cover up, that she doesn't mean it.

“Oh, don't look at me like that,” says Aria, tossing the belt onto the couch beside her. “Before I give you anything, I'm taking mine. You got it?” 

Spencer rolls her eyes, trying to look angry, but with her flushed cheeks, childish pout, and rumpled clothes, she just comes across as adorably frustrated. “Aye, aye, captain.” 

“Good. Now do you remember what I wanted you to do earlier?” 

“Put on the strap and wait for you on the bed.” 

“Exactly. Now get to it,” Aria says dismissively, turning to stride towards the kitchen. Though she pauses as she reaches the island counter and looks over her shoulder, where she catches Spencer staring longingly at her backside, in the middle of pulling her panties back up over her skinny hips. “Oh, and leave the shirt and tie on,” Aria amends, winking as Spencer's eyes dart upward. Then she nods in the general direction of their bedroom, an indication to get moving, and Spencer ducks her head, heading that way on silent, socked feet. 

Aria watches her go, feeling entirely too close to chasing her, abandoning foreplay altogether, and jumping right into a frantic race to get off. So it's a good thing when Spencer disappears around the corner, allowing Aria to release a breath she hadn't really noticed she'd been holding for so long. They'd both been looking forward to this night for a while, and they could have regular, albeit mildly kinky sex any day of the week. No, tonight and probably tomorrow, too, Aria plans to take her time, make good use of the tricks in her arsenal and, more than anything, give Spencer her much-needed permission to let go of the weight that she constantly carries around, give her a long break from the crushing pressure that comes with it. 

Tonight is about punishment and retribution, about getting Spencer to work for it, beg for it. It's the mind-and-body-wrecking catharsis that she only gets on the rare weekends when they're both free. They're usually so busy that neither of them can get enough of the spaces in between, the moments when it's just the two of them with no distractions and nothing to do besides lose themselves in each other. 

Aria closes her eyes, getting herself ready to maintain a dominant headspace for who knows how long. 

Well. 

For as long as Spencer needs it.

* * *

A few minutes later, Aria saunters into their bedroom, glass of wine in hand, and nearly trips over herself. Spencer looks so  _ incredibly  _ sexy stripped from the waist down, stretched out on the length of their mattress like a centerfold. She's propped up on one elbow, busy undoing her cufflinks, and she raises her eyebrows impatiently as Aria pauses to admire her… or, more specifically, the jockstrap harnessed around her hips.

“Have a little patience, princess,” Aria tuts, composing herself and taking a drink. She sets the glass on the nightstand and opens the drawer, sweeping her gaze across its contents: a well-used bottle of edible massage oil, spare carabiners, and the pair of steel, double-locking handcuffs she's looking for. “I wanted a drink."

Spencer scoffs, tossing her cufflinks onto the nightstand. They clatter against the varnished oak, probably scuffing it if previous encounters have taught them anything, but Aria is too caught up in the familiarity of the noise to care. The tantalizing  _ clink  _ of nickel makes her mouth water like Pavlov's dog. “Well, I think you just wanted to make me wait."

“Who me?” Aria lilts, nabbing the cuffs and weighing them in her hand. “When have I ever made you wait for anything?"

"More times than I can count." Spencer bites the inside of her cheek, dazedly eyeing the glint of metal between Aria's fingers. "You like to play games." She cuts her gaze back up to meet Aria's, a thin smile on her lips, and Aria smirks back at her.

“You know me so well," she volleys back, faux-appreciatively, then lifts the cuffs, dangles them in front of her girlfriend's face. "And I'm thinking we play another game. You know what to do." 

Languidly, like an animal stretching in the sunlight, Spencer rolls onto her back and raises her arms over her head, grabbing the vertical metal bars of the ornate headboard with both hands. Aria loops the cuffs around one and then clicks them onto her wrists, making sure they're not too tight. 

"Tell me if anything feels off," Aria reminds her, and Spencer nods, gritting her teeth as she tugs at the bonds, but Aria catches the ever-so-slight hitch in her breath, notices how blown her pupils are. She brushes Spencer's hair out of her eyes, and Spencer peeks up at her through thick lashes, eyes smoldering with lust. "You want to see your surprise now, sweetheart?" 

" _ Yes _ ," Spencer breathes, desperately, tiredly, like she just might die if Aria doesn't give her what she wants soon enough. "Show me." She shifts, wincing, the lean muscles of her arms pulled taut. "Please." 

Aria raises upright, steps back and slowly slips her dress off her shoulders. The fabric falls down around her ankles, revealing the lingerie she's got on underneath, and Spencer's jaw slackens, her eyes trained hungrily on Aria's chest, cradled in pretty black lace as it is. "So what do you think?" 

" _ Fuck _ ," her girlfriend husks, in a way that makes Aria smirk. Spencer, defiant as ever, immediately tries to backpedal. "I mean, I– you look  _ so _ –” As Spencer fumbles with her words, Aria crawls onto the bed, nimbly straddling her, loving the way Spencer's jaw slackens as she settles in place. On impulse, she takes up Spencer's tie, wraps it around her knuckles and  _ pulls _ , tugging it up at an angle so it constricts her throat just that little bit. Spencer is pulled along with it, her eyes fluttering shut, and a low groan rumbles out of her throat seemingly before she can stop it. " _ Aria _ ," she whines. "I–" 

Aria shushes her, undoes the knot in the tie, pulls it off and then gags her with it. She secures it behind Spencer's head with a simple knot, and then, satisfied, sits back to admire her handiwork. The strongest person she knows gagged and restrained beneath her. 

Tilting her head thoughtfully, she runs her fingers down her own body, trails them down her stomach and beneath the waistband of her panties, dips them into her entrance. She shudders at the feeling. She's already  _ so _ wet. 

Locking eyes with her girlfriend, she reaches up to slip her fingers, one by one, slick with arousal, into her mouth, and moans at the taste of herself. Spencer squirms beneath her, and with a soft, throaty chuckle, Aria starts to unbutton Spencer's shirt. The process goes slowly, slower than she can stand, so she begins grinding against the false appendage in Spencer's lap, relishing the feeling of its hard, silicone length. Her heart starts to pound, her breath going impossibly shallow while her fingers fumble with  _ stupid _ , tiny plastic buttons, and she's struck with an awful pang of urgency as Spencer’s eyes blacken. 

“You know,” Aria says, before tearing open the shirt with reckless abandon, the buttons popping off and going everywhere. She doesn't care; she's just happy to slip her hands into the open cavern of the shirt and rake her nails down Spencer's toned abdomen, admiring the planes of lean muscle. “I really do like this outfit on you.”

Spencer is squirming against the restraints by now, moving her hips around in an attempt to create some kind of friction, and Aria rests a warning hand on her throat, applying light, practiced pressure.

“And you like playing dress up, don't you? You like pretending you're in charge?”

She angles Spencer's face away so she can nibble gently at the sensitive skin of her neck, and she takes a moment to drown in the familiar, delicate aroma of her expensive perfume. There's another subtle yet entirely intoxicating scent underneath it that's just  _ Spencer _ , pheromones that appeal to Aria’s inner animal. Clean linen, fresh sweat, cigarette smoke. It sends a pleasant shudder down her spine, and she drags her other palm back up, slips it beneath her bra, cupping the supple flesh of her girlfriend’s breast, brushing her thumb across her nipple before pinching it. Spencer shifts under her touch, letting out a muffled, needy whine that makes Aria ache. 

"But you're going to be a very good girl for me, aren't you, Spencer?" she husks into her ear.

Aria attaches her lips back to Spencer’s neck, drawing out increasingly shameless, muffled sounds as she marks her, claims her, until Spencer is arching her back, pressing the strap harder against Aria’s center. 

Finally, she just can't stand it any longer. 

She raises her hips up off of Spencer's lap, just enough to take hold of the strap-on and push her panties aside, and she only takes a moment to moisten the thick head of the toy with her arousal before she sinks down onto it, gingerly taking it inch by inch. An involuntary moan leaves her lips as she seats herself fully—it's almost  _ too _ big,  _ too _ much, but the way it fills her… 

_ Oh, god. _

“ _ Fuck _ , Spence…” she voices, completely, wholly aware of her girlfriend's hungry eyes trained on her face. As she adjusts to the stretch, Aria draws in ragged breaths. 

Finally, with her heart beating loudly in her ears, she starts to move up and down, languidly, then faster, until she’s scrambling to find a satisfying rhythm as waves of pleasure begin to hit her fast and hard. Aria trembles with each thrust, trapped in her girlfriend's gaze as coherent thought abandons her entirely. Her thighs ache with exertion as she rolls her hips, her chest heaving breathlessly, and sweat pools in the hollow of Spencer's throat as she rocks her hips up to meet her for long, endless minutes. 

The slick sounds of the toy slipping in and out and the thumping of the headboard against the wall are loud in the otherwise silent room, and Aria's moans are very quickly coming out hoarser, choppier, as each thrust hits her deep and that familiar pleasure begins to build. She feels herself getting closer, getting desperate, getting dizzy, so she reaches down and rests her hand on the base of Spencer's neck for stability

“ _ Oh _ –oh  _ f-fuck _ !” She can't help the loud moans that slip out of her mouth at the feeling. “That's perfect, baby— don't you dare fucking stop–” Her voice breaks off as the built up pressure overwhelms her, consumes her, and her mouth falls open. She keeps her left hand pressed against the base of Spencer's neck, and uses her right to reach down and rub her own clit in quick, tight circles. It's enough that her pelvic muscles tighten, rapidly clenching and unclenching around the toy, and her movements falter. For a moment, all the sound drains out of her head, but she can still feel herself cry out as she comes hard, throwing her head back and knotting her fist in the collar of Spencer's dress shirt. 

Finally reaching that point of release, she slumps forward only to catch herself, pressing her forearms into the mattress on either side of Spencer's head and pecking a gentle, wet kiss to her chin. 

Slipping off the toy, her thighs slick, she takes a long moment to catch her breath, absently tracing the silky strip of fabric fastened around Spencer's face. The sight makes her throb, and she caresses Spencer's cheek with a sigh.

“Game time,” she breathes. 

Spencer's eyes flutter, half-lidded and hopeful, and Aria stares intently into them, angling her head to nip at Spencer's jaw. Then she leans back to look at her better, cupping Spencer's face in her hands so she can gently stroke her cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs. Hair is stuck to her girlfriend’s temples with sweat, and Aria rakes her fingers through it, pulls it all over one shoulder so she can massage the tense muscles at the back of Spencer's neck. Slowly, she begins to knead the stress away, and smirks at the tortured moan it elicits, Spencer's brow knitting itself together as she closes her eyes. 

Aria stops just as Spencer’s breath goes ragged and simple, relieved pleasure works its way across her face. “Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart.” A distressed noise ekes out of Spencer's throat as Aria stops touching her, and Aria smirks at her frustration. “You trust me, don't you, Spencer?” 

Her girlfriend’s eyes narrow suspiciously, but she doesn’t hesitate to nod. 

“You trust that I'll make you feel good?” 

Another nod.  _ Yes _ . 

Pleased, Aria grins. “Good.”

She sits back to appreciate Spencer’s physique, and  _ damn _ , she wants to draw it, paint it, photograph it, immortalize it. She takes a mental snapshot for later, feeling so lucky that she can not only look, but  _ touch  _ as well. 

Keeping that touch impossibly light, she starts by running her fingers down the fragile column of Spencer's throat. She traces her collarbone, following it underneath her shirt to lean shoulders, which she takes a moment to draw circles on. Spencer lets out a heavy sigh at the feeling, and Aria’s hands travel down, momentarily avoiding the curve of her chest. She counts Spencer's ribs, then moves down to her hips, playing with the strap of the harness before carefully undoing it, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor. 

She trails kisses back up, pecking the beauty mark on Spencer’s hip bone, lavishing the muscles of her stomach, teasing her chest with her teeth and tongue, satisfied with the tiny, contented sounds her girlfriend is making. As she’s doing that, she slips a hand between Spencer's legs and starts to rub in slow circles. Spencer lets out a strangled noise and bucks her hips, and Aria sits back to watch her face. 

“That feels good, doesn't it, baby?” she coos, listening as Spencer's breath quickens. For the next few minutes, she focuses all her efforts on finding the right rhythm and pressure, and soon enough Spencer’s muffled moans are loud and shameless. 

“Are you close, babe?” Aria says finally. “You want to come?”

Spencer nods, pulling at the cuffs and arching her back, but when her entire body tenses up, her brow knits together, and the noises she’s making choke into silence, Aria stops. 

Immediately, Spencer wails in protest, slamming her head back into the pillows, and Aria sees her try to yank her right hand downward. When she remembers that she can't, she squeezes her thighs together, squirming for some kind of friction.

“No no no,” Aria tuts, scooting down to where she can pry Spencer's legs apart at the knees. She pins her there until she stops struggling, grinning wickedly as her pants and whimpers grow increasingly tortured. “I'm not done with you yet.” 

She kisses the insides of Spencer's thighs, moving all the way down to her ankles and up to the inside of her hip bone, taking her time as she holds her legs open. She blows teasingly at the moisture she leaves behind, watching as goosebumps raise across Spencer’s skin. 

Finally, she begins using her tongue, and even though she avoids her girlfriend's clit altogether, they quickly get right back to where they were. The muscles in Spencer's legs tighten under Aria’s grip, and again she stops what she’s doing, pulling back to watch the swollen bundle of nerves twitch. 

This time Spencer doesn't put up a fight, only leaning her head back and releasing more tormented sounds as Aria waits… and waits… and  _ waits _ for her mounting pleasure to ebb. 

Careful not to apply pressure anywhere Spencer needs it, Aria crawls up to undo the gag. Spencer blinks up at her like she’s seeing the sun for the first time in weeks, the inner corners of her eyebrows tilting upward, pleading for mercy, spit smearing her chin. Ignoring her, Aria crawls over to the edge of the bed, grabbing Spencer's phone from the nightstand to check the time. It’s only a little past midnight. “I think…” she muses, messing with the settings until she has an alarm set to go off. “You can go another thirty minutes without coming. What do you think?” 

Spencer scoffs, despite her heaving chest and the hint of desperation in her eyes, and says, “What do I get if I do?” 

“Anything you want, babe,” Aria promises her. “A nice dinner, a massage, me on my back. Take your pick.”

“I want  _ you _ ,” Spencer says hoarsely. “I want to fuck you until you can’t walk straight.” 

Aria barely contains her smile, quirks a brow like she’s surprised—she’s not. “Fair enough.”

Aria re-establishes herself between her girlfriend’s legs, and restarts her game for the third time. 

She's lost count of how many times she's gotten Spencer to the edge and then denied her by the time the alarm goes off, and at that point, Spencer's body is exhausted, visibly trembling with built up tension that Aria just won't let her release. She'd unlocked Spencer's wrists from their cuffs a little while ago, mostly because she was concerned for her circulation, but it also helped to make the denial that much more torturous. 

“ _ Please please please _ …” Spencer is practically begging under her breath now, and Aria wonders if she’s just so out of it that she doesn't even notice. Her cheek is bright red from where Aria has to keep slapping her to stop her from touching herself, and her breaths are coming out in ragged, labored pants. She'd grabbed fistfuls of the bedsheets to control herself, and her knuckles are turning white. 

Aria lays beside her, leisurely stretched out on her side as she swirls her fingertips across Spencer's twitching stomach. Every now and then she'll wander lower or higher, but only long enough to recapture her girlfriend's attention. She hears the alarm go off and smiles when Spencer doesn't react. “Mmm… baby?” 

Spencer squeezes her eyes shut tighter. 

“Hey, look at me.” Aria grabs her face and turns it toward her, snapping her fingers. Spencer only whimpers in response. “Spencer. Look at me.” 

Gingerly, Spencer opens her eyes, and Aria greets her with a soft, congratulatory smile. “Hey, princess,” she coos, gently stroking Spencer's cheek. “I want you to do something for me.” 

Spencer nods. “Anything,” she rasps, her voice so hoarse that it makes Aria feel utterly weak. 

“You've been such a good girl that I want to watch while you make yourself come.” 

Immediately, relief floods Spencer's face. Dragging a hand through her hair, she closes her eyes again and reaches down to touch herself. All that edging has left her swollen and desperate, so she moans at the contact, her face crumpling in a way that looks like she might cry as she quickly falls into a rhythm that’s borderline panicked. “God, Aria… oh, fuck…  _ fuck _ !” 

Her heels dig into the mattress, her head thrown back, and Aria watches, brushing strands of hair out of Spencer's face every now and then but never interfering. Only when Spencer goes rigged, her stomach muscles spasming, does Aria grab her chin and tilt her face over for a sloppy kiss. Her girlfriend’s movements falter, and she presses her forehead against Aria’s for some kind of stability, blindly reaching her left hand up to grab at Aria’s wrist as she keeps applying pressure with her right. Spencer's fingers tighten around her arm, and Aria keeps hold of her face, enjoying it as she watches the way Spencer's eyes screw shut and her mouth gapes soundlessly open. 

When Spencer finally surrenders to the throes of an intense orgasm, Aria grabs her by the shirt, dragging her closer, rolling her over until she’s practically lying on top of her. Spencer buries her face in Aria’s neck, pushing her hands into the mattress, and Aria hugs her tightly as she shakes, caressing the back of her head. 

“Shhh… that's it, baby. Just let it go.” 

All she gets in response is a strangled moan, but she feels the tension shuddering its way out of Spencer's body, and after several long, endless seconds, Spencer collapses against her, breathing heavily, soaking wet on Aria’s thigh.

Silent minutes pass with Aria stroking her soft, sweat-damp hair, planting gentle kisses at her crown, easing her down from her high by just holding her like she prefers. She keeps expecting Spencer to say something, only to finally feel her breath even out and the remaining sliver of conscious tension in her body slacken. Aria doesn’t have to check to know she’s fallen asleep. 

She lets out a tranquil sigh as she cradles Spencer's head to her chest, slides a hand down her girlfriend’s lean back, feeling the new wrinkles in the thin, expensive fabric of the dress shirt. The front of it pools at Aria’s sides like a blanket, but with Spencer's bare skin pressed against her, she’s almost too hot to breathe. Part of her wants to wake Spencer up just so they can go cool off in a lukewarm shower, wash each other clean of the day’s sweat. They'd come out of it exhausted but famished, if she knows Spencer well enough.

Which she does, obviously. 

They can make the dinner that they didn't have time for before they left, and cuddle on the couch after they put the bed sheets in to wash. There’s a new season of a show that Spencer has been eager to watch, and Aria honestly wouldn't mind streaming it with her while they eat. 

“Spencer,” she says gently, shaking her girlfriend's shoulder. "Wake up."

Spencer stirs, groaning into her neck. “Tired,” she grumbles. “Just wanna sleep.” 

“Okay, babe,” Aria coos, rubbing her back. “But hey… you need to eat something first.” 

“ _ Mffghh _ . Yeah, sure.” 

With a small grunt, Spencer pushes herself upright and sits back on her heels. Aria props up on her elbows and admires the view as her girlfriend stretches. Weary brown eyes shoot her a playfully scathing look when they flutter open again, and Aria grins mischievously back. 

Spencer casts a questioning look down at herself, running a hand through her mussed hair. “You really do love me in that suit, don't you?” 

“Correction: I always love you in whatever you’re wearing. But the dress shirt and tie combo is definitely my favorite.” She grabs onto the wrinkled fabric of the shirt and pulls herself into a sitting position. “It's useful, too. Makes it easier to manhandle you.” 

Spencer hums in agreement, then laughs. “It’s alarming how good you are at that. You’re so tiny.”

Rolling her eyes, Aria uses her grip on Spencer's shirt to drag her girlfriend to the side and shove her down onto her back. She straddles Spencer's waist and sits with arms akimbo, quirking a brow. 

“Right. Tiny could kick my ass,” Spencer concedes, slipping an arm behind her head to use as a pillow. “All those fucking karate lessons. What are you now, anyway? A blue belt?” 

“Yep. And do you remember what  _ Tiny _ just did to your body, Spencer?” 

“Touché, but you're still adorable even when you make me forget what continent I'm on.” Her girlfriend shrugs, closing her eyes. “So I won, right? I get to fuck you?”

“Yep. But don’t get used to it.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Spencer says dryly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “But hey, Ar?” 

“Yeah, babe?” 

“Since you're, like, the Master of My Pain and Pleasure, can I eat and take some painkillers now? I’ve got a headache.” 

“Sure, but we’re showering, too.” 

They peel themselves out of bed and strip the mattress, take the time to clean and store all their toys for later, and while Aria starts the shower, Spencer goes to go throw the sheets in the wash and down some aspirin. She reappears just as Aria is reaching to unhook the lacy bralette she still has on. 

“Allow me,  _ mon petit amour _ ,” says her girlfriend in that perfectly mastered French accent she has, deftly undoing the clasp. Then she pecks a delicate kiss on Aria’s shoulder that makes her heart flutter.

_ Goddamn it.  _

Aria groans aloud, turning around to jab an accusatory finger into Spencer's chest. “ _ You  _ are not allowed to use that kind of language unless you plan on absolutely screwing me into oblivion for the rest of the night.” 

Spencer looks confused for a second before it clicks. “What, me using the most basic of French phrases turns you on that much?”

Aria pushes Spencer's shirt off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. “It's the language of love for a reason, Spence,” she says chidingly, curling her toes into the fluffy rug underfoot.

Spencer smirks and rolls her eyes before she suddenly loops her arms around Aria’s hips, lifting her up with relative ease. “Whatever you say, dearest.” 

Aria squeals in surprise and latches onto Spencer for dear life, taking great delight in being carried the whole two feet to the bathtub. Spencer deposits her inside, setting her gently on her feet under the warm rain, and then steps in herself, yanking the curtain shut. 

Aria nods to herself, impressed, as she watches Spencer start to scrub off the mess of makeup still on her face. “Cashing in that win?”

Spencer snorts. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“So you wanna watch that new episode of _Game of Thrones_ while we eat?” Aria asks her, as she squeezes shampoo into her palm and starts massaging it into Spencer's hair. 

Spencer smiles as Aria’s fingers knead her scalp. “Have I ever mentioned that I love you?” She kisses the tip of Aria’s nose and then screws her eyes shut as she ducks into the spray of water again. 

“Sure, but I'm always down to hear it more…” 

Once Spencer is done rinsing her hair, she grabs Aria by the hips once more and presses her against the slick, cold tiles, passionately connecting their mouths. Momentarily forgetting that they weren't going to be continuing this in the bedroom until tomorrow, Aria loops her arms around the back of Spencer's neck and absolutely loses herself in the kiss. She gasps into Spencer's mouth as her girlfriend's hands slide down over her butt, and she hooks her leg around Spencer's, tugging her closer.

“I love you,” Spencer pulls back to husk, her nose brushing Aria’s and her gaze impossibly soft. “I love you so much.” 

Aria grins, her stomach doing backflips and her heartbeat loud like a kick drum in her ears. “You know, I’d love you a lot more if you gave me a little something to last until tomorrow.” 

Spencer sighs. “Aria, Aria, Aria…” she says in a singsong. “What am I going to do with you and your hyperactive sex drive?” 

“I'll make you pancakes,” Aria bribes, ignoring Spencer's amused scoff. She doesn't even mention the fact that a gentle breeze is capable of turning Spencer into a ravenous horndog. Maybe they both have too much energy between them, but at least they can keep up with each other. “Burnt edges? Drowning in butter and syrup?” 

“Aria, it's almost two in the morning.” 

“Which means it's almost time for breakfast,” she reasons. “We can just binge a show and stay up until dawn. Then we can spend all day in bed.” 

Spencer looks like she’s considering it. “There has to be actual sleep somewhere in that schedule, though. I'm utterly  _ exhausted _ .” 

“You took a little bit of a nap earlier.” 

“Yeah, I was unconscious for about five seconds before you woke me up. And you're already shamelessly bribing me for more sex. I think you're becoming a little bit addicted, babe.” 

Aria pouts, adopting a kittenish voice. “Well, how can I not be? Spencer Hastings is my most favorite person on the planet, so doesn't it make sense that I want her all the time?” As she speaks, she reaches up to cradle Spencer's face between her hands. “You're the most beautiful and intelligent and strong and sexy and loving and amazing person in the whole wide world–” 

“Okay, now you're just kissing my ass,” says Spencer glumly. She squints. “It might be working, though.”

“I love you,” insists Aria, ignoring her. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love–” 

Spencer shuts her up with a kiss. Aria smiles and traps her face between her hands, a moan escaping her throat as Spencer presses her harder against the wall. “We’re going to slip and fall if we’re not careful,” Spencer whispers as she pulls back a little. 

Aria waves off her concerns, stealing kisses as she speaks. “That's what I bought the no-slip mat for.” 

“You bought a bath mat purely so we could have sex in the shower?” 

“I’m nothing if not prepared,” quips Aria. 

Spencer scoffs and looks like she might have a few instances to use as evidence against that point, but Aria is reaching over to turn the water on at a higher temperature, and any arguments are lost in a haze of steam. Spencer shifts their positions so that her thigh is the primary source of friction between them, and Aria grinds down onto it, sliding her hands into her girlfriend’s wet hair and tugging needily. Scorching kisses trail from her mouth to the line of her jaw, and then Spencer sucks on her neck for a while, her hands roaming all over as she presses into her.

It’s a long time before they speak again, only needing to communicate via cautious touches and encouraging moans, and Aria is more than satisfied by the time the water starts to go cold. Her heartbeat is drowning out all other noise now, but she can feel Spencer everywhere, all suffocating heat and slick skin. Her legs are weak and shaking as Spencer lets her loose from where she's been pinned to the wall, and Spencer chuckles as she wobbles, carefully holding her upright. 

“Ask and you shall receive.” Spencer shoots her a questioning look, reaching over to grab the handle that controlled the temperature. “Now are you done, Montgomery? Or do I need to cool you off some more?” 

“Done.” Aria tries to catch her breath. “I'm done, Spence–” 

“I don't know. You still look a little flushed to me,” mocks the taller woman, mischief blooming in her eyes. 

“Spencer, don't you dare–” she’s cut off as Spencer quickly twists the knob and the water turns ice cold, the shock of it forcing a shriek from her lungs. “I'M GONNA KILL–” 

Giggling like they’re still teenagers that have to sneak around (Aria thinks specifically of utility closets in public venues, her own bedroom with her parents asleep next door, and the backseat of Spencer's car), Spencer clamps a hand over Aria’s mouth. “ _ Shh _ ! Babe, you're gonna wake up the neighbors.” 

Aria tears her hand away. “I'm going to kill you,” she hisses, trying not to laugh at Spencer's always contagious amusement. They both are shivering now, and clean enough. Mission accomplished. All that’s left is… “No, worse than that: I'm not making you pancakes.” 

Spencer looks scandalized, immediately shoving the handle to OFF. “Aria,” she says very seriously. “Don't fuck around with me. You promised.” 

Aria crosses her arms over her chest. “Did I, though? I may have mentioned it, but did we, like, shake hands?” 

“Shake hands? This isn't a business deal. If I recall correctly, the agreement, which was between two people in a committed relationship based on mutual trust and understanding, was that I sex you against that wall and then you make me pancakes. Done. Finished. No loopholes.” 

“Your raised-by-lawyers is showing,” deadpans Aria, walking past her girlfriend and out of the shower. She grabs a fluffy towel off the rack and throws it at Spencer's chest. “I thought verbal agreements weren't legally binding anyway?” 

“I'm not saying that you're legally obligated to make me pancakes, Aria, I'm saying that you promised me, as my girlfriend, to treat me to a delicacy of fine cuisine.” 

Wrapping a towel around herself, Aria shrugs, leaning to look in the foggy mirror over the sink. “Well, is it a deal breaker if I don't?” 

Spencer rolls her eyes and rings the water out of her hair. “If watching you chew your nail polish off or drool rivers in your sleep isn't a deal breaker, then no. It's not. I’ll just be deeply wounded is all. And I'll hold it against you… forever. Who knows, maybe I'll snap one day when we’re ninety and start beaming you with my cane.” 

Aria lets out a melodramatic, conflicted sigh, turning back to Spencer, who pauses in the middle of drying off. “Well, I guess we can't have that.” She saunters over and frames Spencer's face in her hands, started talking to her like one would a child. “I would never, ever want to hurt my shnookums, my teddy bear, my woobie, my dearest  _ darling _ –” 

“Newsflash, honey, you punish me in bed.” Spencer snorts. “I think that qualifies as hurting me. Consensually, but… try again.”

“Fine,” Aria snarls, tightening her grip on Spencer's face. “Then you're my baby, my princess, my sweetheart, my dirty little slut, my–” 

“Those are actually quite demeaning out of context. And now that I think about it, I, as a self-proclaimed feminist, probably shouldn't indulge in–” 

“Oh my god, STOP. I'll make your goddamned pancakes, Spencer,” exclaims Aria, throwing her hands up. “Just stop being such a smartass.” 

Spencer's mouth stretches into a smug grin. “Aaaannd you'll watch _Game of Thrones_ with me?” 

“And I'll watch Dragons and Tits with you.” 

“Dragons and Tits!?” The taller woman looks scandalized yet again. “Do you even pay any attention to the plot?” 

“Spencer, honestly, I don't know what the fuck is going on on that show half the time.”

Spencer takes a big breath and opens her mouth to explain. 

“Don't.” Aria shoves a hand in her face before she can even start, Spencer's nose smushing against her palm. “As much as I love it when you're being a huge nerd and going on long-winded rants, I'll just end up tuning you out on this one. All I care about are CGI dragons and boobs, m’kay?” 

Spencer gapes as Aria removes her hand. “Okay, that's understandable, but I really think you would enjoy it if–” 

“I thought you were tired? And had a headache? You're giving me a headache. Seriously, quit while you're ahead.” Aria bustles out of the bathroom and to her side of their bureau, tugging open the top drawer. She slips into a comfortable pair of underwear, slides flannel pajama pants on over them, and then digs around in Spencer's drawer to steal one of her shirts. 

“You do realize that I’ll run out of clothes to wear if you keep stealing them, right?” Spencer says, nudging her over to find her own sleepwear. 

Without batting an eye, Aria rips her girlfriend’s towel off, dodging Spencer's half-assed swipe for it, and makes a show of looking at her with unabashed salaciousness. “And that's a bad thing  _ why _ ? I mean, you've got great skin, legs for days, and those fucking abs, let me tell you…” She lets out a low wolf whistle.

Spencer shoots her a dirty look, but her ears are turning pink. “Sometimes I think you only love me for my body.” 

“Well, do you not love me for mine?” Aria questions, more rhetorically than anything, and strikes a ridiculous pose, flexing her (admittedly quite toned) biceps, fully aware that Spencer's shirt is swallowing her. She throws her hands up in mock disbelief when Spencer only shakes her head in amusement. Aria scoffs and starts heading towards the living room–

“Of course I do, babe.” Spencer catches her completely off guard by slapping her on the ass as she passes by, which elicits a surprised yelp. 

Aria's mouth drops open and she swings around, walking backwards towards the doorway. “You're such a fucking tease.” 

Spencer doesn't look up, the corner of her mouth curving in quiet delight. “And you're about to walk into the doorframe.” 

Aria pauses and glances over her shoulder. The wall is about a foot away. She turns back around to glare at Spencer, who doesn't notice her since she’s busy stepping into boxers and pulling a baggy long sleeve shirt over her head. “Shut up.” 

She wanders into the kitchen on weak legs, starts rooting through cabinets for vegan pancake ingredients. Spencer finally joins her when she’s dumping batter into a sizzling pan, and starts fiddling with the coffee maker. Aria gets butterflies like she usually does when she notices the glasses perched on her girlfriend's nose. 

There’s just something so adorable about the reminder of Spencer's far-sightedness. Sometimes it’s like she forgets all about it until they decide to turn in for the night and Spencer wanders out of the ensuite, sans contact lenses, looking like a literal dad intent on reading the newspaper as a bedtime story. Or like somebody’s stern grandma. One or the other. Sometimes Aria catches herself waiting to be nagged as Spencer settles beside her and sometimes actually turns on her tablet to check the news, but her girlfriend looks damn good in glasses either way. 

“Well, hel- _ lo  _ there, Daddy with a capital D,” she teases, smiling as Spencer's spine straightens in surprise and an embarrassed blush spreads across her cheeks. “Yeah, I'm talking to you, dork, hand me that spatula.”

Spencer finishes setting the coffee to brew and grabs the spatula out of the giant mason jar they keep on the counter. But instead of just passing it over, she comes up behind Aria and wraps her arms around her from behind. “Daddy, huh? Do we need to have a talk?”

Aria takes the spatula from her, leaning back into the warmth of her arms. “I mean,  _ no _ .” She thinks about it for a moment, reconsiders. “Maybe.” 

Spencer chuckles. “Tomorrow. When I cash in that win.” 

“Okay,” Aria agrees. “Tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, you sinners.


End file.
